


the way that you flip your hair (gets me overwhelmed)

by calmthestorms



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Flustered Atsumu, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Pining, References to Sex, Swearing, a bit of h word Atsumu, a lil bit of miya twin shenanigans, a whole lot of gay, and of course references to the incredible and timeless one direction, atsumu is gay and in love and incredibly attracted to sakusa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmthestorms/pseuds/calmthestorms
Summary: And then Sakusa tips his head back, the camera zooming up his long neck slowly, settling to show his fingers buried in his hair andpulling.Atsumu almost bites his tongue off.-In which Sakusa shoots a hair commercial, and Atsumu is incredibly gay.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 392





	the way that you flip your hair (gets me overwhelmed)

**Author's Note:**

> I have like two wips for sakuatsu already, one of which was a more serious one that was supposed to be my first fic for them??? But no, I literally wrote this one today because my brain wouldn't let it go, instead of working on my anatomy stuff :((((
> 
> Which is to say, I don't regret this at all and I had so much fun writing it!!! Kudos and comments are my lifeblood; I'd love to hear what you think!!! Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Title from, of course, What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction. What a bop!!

When Sakusa walks into practice, forty-five minutes late, Atsumu zooms over to him immediately. He plasters a mocking smile to his face in a way he _knows_ will irritate the other man.

“Omi-kun,” he purrs. “You’re laaaaate.”

Sakusa’s jaw clenches, face settling into deep irritation, and Atsumu pretends his stomach doesn’t swoop at how defined it is. Water is wet, the sky is blue, Sakusa is incredibly attractive, blah blah blah. He’s resigned himself to the fact that the world of competitive volleyball is full of attractive people. Sakusa’s not different, not at _all._

_You’re such a bad liar,_ the voice of Osamu says in his head.

_Shut up,_ _you don’t know anything,_ Atsumu thinks back. And then, in vindication, _your onigiri yesterday sucked_. _Your business is going downhill._

The Osamu in his head doesn’t reply, so Atsumu focuses back on Sakusa, who seems intent on ignoring him. Well, he can’t have that.

“Omi-Omi, don’t ignore me!” he whines, sidling slowly past the boundary of Sakusa’s bubble, too close for comfort. Sakusa glares at him, but like always, for a reason Atsumu can’t understand, he lets him in. Atsumu buries the warmth in his chest, keeps his smile from softening. That’s for him to reflect on later when he’s alone.

“You didn’t actually give me anything to respond to,” Sakusa grunts. “Yes, I’m late. And?” He makes his way to an empty section of court. Atsumu follows him, waving genially to Meian and Coach Foster, who stare at him pointedly, _get back to practice_ screaming from their gazes.

“So pedantic,” Atsumu sniffs. “Fine. _Why_ are you late?”

“Hair commercial,” Sakusa says. He drops to the ground to begin his stretches. “You’d have known that if you were paying attention to Coach’s announcements yesterday.”

“Huh,” Atsumu says. He squints at Sakusa’s head, and oh. _Wow._

Sakusa has really pretty hair. Again, that’s objective fact. But now that Atsumu’s looking, he can see that it’s _glowing_ , probably from whatever product they put in Sakusa’s hair before the shoot _._ The light catches on his tresses like it has fingers, the curls tighter and more soft-looking than Atsumu has ever seen. They sway a little as Sakusa switches to stretching his other knee, and for a second, Atsumu swears that a curl lifts up to wave at him.

_Come touch me,_ it says. _You know you want to_.

Atsumu really, really, _really_ wants to. But he can’t. He’s at practice, Sakusa doesn’t like touching, there’s no actual reason for him to want to touch it, shut _up,_ Osamu, you dick.

_I’m right here,_ says the curl. _Don’t you want to see if I’m soft? Don’t you want to run your fingers through me and pull on me? Yank me, see if he—_

“Miya!” Meian bellows across the gym. Atsumu shrieks, volleyball flying out of his hands. It nails Sakusa dead in the face. “Get back to practice!”

Sakusa slowly lifts his head up, hands tight around the volleyball. There is murder in his eyes.

There’s also a beautiful, beautiful curl falling right next to his cheek, forlorn.

“Sorry!” Atsumu squeaks, to Meian and Sakusa both, and rushes to the opposite side of the court.

Sakusa’s spikes are more vicious than usual, and Atsumu uses the chance to practice his receives. It takes all his concentration, so he’s able to avoid thinking about that fucking magnetic hair. He ends practice exhausted as usual, and his brain quiets. That’s the end of that, then. Just a temporary lapse in brain function. All’s well that ends well.

Atsumu idles a little, allowing Sakusa to shower first before going in himself. He passes the spiker on the way in. Sakusa’s hair is mostly back to normal from the wash, but Atsumu’s mouth still goes dry at how it plasters against his head and around his face. It makes Sakusa’s eyes look especially dark.

He looks away and showers as fast as he can.

As he leaves practice, he checks his phone to see Osamu has texted him.

_What the fuck do you mean my onigiri sucked?_

Atsumu sighs. Ah, the wonders of twin telepathy.

His phone buzzes in his hand with a second text, like Osamu knows he’s just checked it. _You’re whipped, by the way. You loooove him._

_I hope your restaurant gets infested by roaches_ , Atsumu texts back. His mouth is dry.

Just a temporary lapse in brain function, he tells himself. That’s all it was.

-

A week later, Atsumu’s sprawled on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through social media. As he watches another fancam of himself, the MSBY Jackals group chat pings with a notification from Shouyou-kun.

**Ninja Shouyou:** Omi-san!!!!!! Your ad is great!!!!!

**HEY HEY HEY:** LINK??????!!!!!!!

**Sakusa:** pls dont.

**Ninja Shouyou:** HERE YOU GO BOKUTO-SAN!!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Gopg80Vsdasd

Atsumu’s thumb hovers over the link, suddenly nervous. He shouldn’t be feeling weird about this; the Jackals always hype up each other’s ads and commercials. Bokuto had filmed an underwear commercial a few months ago and Atsumu and Hinata had whistled and hooted at for him for a week straight after it aired. Compared to that, this is _nothing_.

He clicks on it.

Gentle, upbeat piano music begins to play as images of the herbal shampoo or conditioner or whatever it is—Atsumu doesn’t really care—flash on the screen, golden, viscous liquid pooling across a white background. Then Sakusa’s hands appear, cupped below the hair product to catch it, his fingers long and elegant. A quick cut to show Sakusa’s sharp profile, featuring the moles on his right side, as his bangs sway teasingly next to his cheek. Another quick cut to Sakusa running his fingers through his curls, tousling it attractively, tresses falling back into place but artfully disheveled. Atsumu’s breath catches.

And then Sakusa tips his head back, the camera zooming up his long neck slowly, settling to show his fingers buried in his hair and _pulling_.

Atsumu almost bites his tongue off.

Sakusa tilts his head, gives the camera a lazy wink, lips twitching into a slow, seductive smile. How the _fuck_ does he know to smile like that? “L’Oréal,” he says softly, his eyes boring into the lens.

The video ends. It was only 30 seconds. Atsumu stares into space.

“What the fuck,” he mutters. “What the _fuck_???”

His phone pings, and he switches back to the group chat.

**HEY HEY HEY:** THAT’S SO SEXY SAKUSA

**Ninja Shouyou:** Your hair is beautiful Omi-san!!

**Captain:** Very nice shoot, Sakusa.

**Inunaka:** adriah and i both just watched it and wow!!!!! that was great!!

**Barnes:** great job!!

**Sakusa:** thx.

**Sakusa:** :)

That’s about as expressive Sakusa gets over text, but Atsumu knows it’s genuine gratitude. He realizes that he hasn’t actually said anything yet. As if on cue, Shouyou-kun sends another message.

**Ninja Shouyou:** Atsumu-san I see your icon! What did you think???

What should he say? _I literally want to die_. Or, _I am going to jerk off to this for the rest of my life._ Or, _I am really, really attracted to you and it’s raising inconvenient realizations that I might feel more than just attracted to you, but also I am really, really, REALLY attracted to you._

In the end, he sends, _That was a great shoot Omi-Omi!!!! Very hot!_ and adds an eyes emoji.

**Sakusa:** k.

Atsumu blows out a breath. “Fuck me,” he groans.

He spends the next little while rewatching the video and engaging in some very healthy, very mature, totally not weird quality time with his dick. And at the end of that, he turns his face into the pillow and imagines that Sakusa’s there beside him, and imagines running his fingers through that hair and burying his face into it, and curling around him and falling asleep.

_I really do like him_ , Atsumu thinks, his face warming.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. “Fuck _off_ , ‘Samu,” he yells at his ceiling, and then he goes to sleep.

-

The thing is, once Atsumu realizes that he’s actually really into Sakusa, he starts thinking about it, like, all the time.

He keeps getting distracted by Sakusa’s hair and Sakusa’s face and, generally, Sakusa’s everything. It doesn’t affect his performance, but during breaks, he spends an embarrassing amount of time watching him out of the corner of his eyes, tracing the movement of his hands, and the swoop of his hair, and his hands _in_ his hair.

God, he’s so gay.

He should tell Sakusa. Atsumu is reasonably certain, after spending a long, long time thinking about it, that Sakusa could be into him. Sakusa lets Atsumu poke his buttons, lets him into his space, is surprisingly observant and kind and knows exactly when Atsumu is having a bad day. He banters with Atsumu like no one else, but sometimes, he and Atsumu talk, really talk, about high school and their dreams and their families. He could wind up with a boyfriend out of this whole, messy ordeal. He could wind up with _Sakusa Kiyoomi_ as his boyfriend.

The problem is, the idea of confessing to Sakusa kind of makes him want to die.

Atsumu, fundamentally, loves competition and hates vulnerability. He’s not going to be the one to confess first. He knows Sakusa likes him, and hell if he’s going to give that man the satisfaction of a confession without putting him through the pining Atsumu has suffered. He’s stronger than Sakusa, he’s sure of it. He’s going to make him crack first.

So, for the next couple of weeks, Atsumu puts more effort into his appearance than he ever has in his life. He makes sure to time his showers so that he passes right by Sakusa before he leaves, playing up the way he dries his hair and his chest, his towel just a bit lower on his hips than is strictly appropriate. He snoops around and finds out Sakusa’s favourite brand of shampoo and conditioner, and he makes sure to wash his hair with it so that the citrus-y scent wafts past Sakusa every time he moves past. He joins Bokuto and Shouyou-kun’s hype-sessions more often, flexing and making Jackal claws right in Sakusa’s field of vision, directing his hottest open-tongued grin straight at him.

Atsumu knows he’s not imagining the irritated, heavy, _heated_ gaze on the back of his neck that follows him around. He feels it now as he gets ready for a shower and smirks, smug. Just a little more pressure, and Sakusa will crack.

When he emerges from the shower, his stomach drops. Sakusa is waiting for him, mask off, leaning against the locker beside his. They’re the only two left in the locker room. Something about him screams trouble; Atsumu feels it sparking in the air. No time for theatrics today, then. He hurries to his locker without looking at him, rushing through his routine to get out as fast as possible.

Sakusa is completely silent the whole while, his gaze pinned on Atsumu. Atsumu’s skin itches. He can feel a flush spreading over his face and slams his locker shut, rushing past Sakusa.

Sakusa doesn’t let him. He smoothly steps around Atsumu and steps right into his space, his face inches away.

Atsumu lets out a soundless wheeze.

This is the closest they’ve _ever_ been. Sakusa’s head is tilted down, his eyes boring into Atsumu’s. Atsumu follows the line of his cheek, the gentle sway of the hair down his face.

The silky, glowing, thick hair that looks exactly like it had the day of Sakusa’s shoot. It’s got the same product in it.

“Bastard,” Atsumu breathes. Sakusa’s lips twitch up.

“Miya,” he says. Atsumu’s eyes snap to his, waiting.

“What?” he whispers.

There’s a pensive look in Sakusa’s eyes. Atsumu doesn’t like it. “ _What_?” he repeats, more aggressively.

Sakusa’s face goes blank. “Nothing,” he says casually. “Never mind." And then.

And _then_.

The fucker drags his hand through his hair.

Atsumu’s mind blanks with fury.

“You—you—” he spits, choking on his outrage. Sakusa is _taunting_ him. Sakusa’s known this whole time and he’s shoving it in Atsumu’s face, and oh my god, _he’s so hot._

“Yes?” Sakusa drawls. “Me what?”

And that’s _it_.

Atsumu leaps forward, crowding Sakusa into the lockers with a shallow _bang!_ He pauses for a split second, meeting Sakusa’s eyes and checking in. Sakusa nods a little, expression oozing obnoxious satisfaction and burning desire.

Atsumu slides his arms around Sakusa’s back; the touch makes them both jump, and Sakusa’s throat bobs as he swallows. Atsumu angles them so that Sakusa is braced against his forearms instead of the unclean metal of the lockers, cups Sakusa’s neck so that the back of his hands touch the locker instead of Sakusa’s head. Sakusa’s eyes warm, unchecked gratitude and fondness in his eyes.

And finally, Atsumu sinks his fingers into that soft, beautiful, maddening hair, and kisses him.

Sakusa kisses him back ferociously, his lips bruising, bare fingers coming up to cup his face. Atsumu moans into his mouth at the force. His fingers clench at Sakusa’s hair on instinct, yanking like he wanted to that first time at practice, and Sakusa’s breath hitches, hard. _Interesting._

“Shut up,” Sakusa breaks to say when Atsumu smirks, and then dives in to kiss him again. Atsumu rakes his fingers through his hair as he does, and Sakusa shudders beneath him. Atsumu’s skin is on fire, and Sakusa is so warm beneath him, and the heat between them builds and builds, and wow, this is going to become something more _really fast_ if they don’t stop now.

Reluctantly, Atsumu pulls back. The kiss turns softer, sweeter. When they break apart, Sakusa’s lips are swollen, his eyes hazy.

“Um,” Atsumu says. He can’t stop smiling.

“Stop. That’s gross,” Sakusa grouses, but he’s smiling, too, just a little, and he’s so gorgeous Atsumu doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Come on, we need to wash our hands. I don’t care if you just showered, you touched the locker.”

“I wasn’t going to argue,” Atsumu chirps. “Let’s get dinner.”

They hold hands all the way to Onigiri Miya, Atsumu’s bare and Sakusa’s gloved. Osamu takes one look at them and snorts.

“Told you,” he tells Atsumu.

“I hope your rice gets eaten by rats,” Atsumu responds merrily. Osamu looks at the grin etched on his face and grimaces.

“Yeah, that’s going to take getting used to,” he mutters, disappearing into the kitchen with their orders.

“Hey,” Sakusa says as they wait. “Just so it’s clear: I won.”

Atsumu leans in close so that his mouth is right next to Sakusa’s ear. “I’ll get you next time,” he breathes, promise heavy in his voice, smirking as Sakusa fights a shiver.

And hey, it’s cheesy as hell, but Atsumu doesn’t think he’s lost at all.

**Author's Note:**

> askjask;lfjaf I hope you enjoyed!! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Find me on twitter at [@aritalks1](https://twitter.com/aritalks1)! I'd love to meet more people in this fandom!


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